


All The Angels Say

by ryrowentz (othellokink)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angels, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Guardian Angel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/othellokink/pseuds/ryrowentz
Summary: "Besides, I don't have any experience whatsoever at being a guardian. None. Didn't even opt for it as an option when I got here. Don't you have to be trained for that?"xoThe one where Patrick loses his fiance, Gerard, and Frank is his guardian angel when he takes it about as well as can be expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pechebaie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pechebaie/gifts).



> This is a Valentine's Day gift for my boyfriend, Frankie(angelboyfrnk)!  
> I hope you love this fic like I love you.

Three weeks. That’s how long it had been. Three weeks since Patrick had gotten the call, and it still hadn’t sunk in yet. 

When it happened, Gerard had only been officially missing for twelve days. The police refused to allow Patrick to file a report until at least 48 hours had passed. 

“Not yet. Give it a few days.” Gerard wasn’t like that. They all insisted, “Don’t stress too much, he’ll turn up.” No one would listen to him.

Gerard wasn’t fucking like that. 

But sure enough, two weeks after he’d disappeared, he turned up. 

Mikey had gone with him to identify the body, vice gripping onto Patrick’s hand, like if he clung tight enough the whole situation would go away. Maybe, just maybe, if the two of them together could hope hard enough, they’d wake up from this nightmare. Gerard would be in the kitchen, having coffee with Pete when they got home, and he’d hug both of them and tell them it was okay, it was just a dream.

But that didn’t matter. Mikey must have realized that, processed it faster than Patrick could that it didn’t matter how tightly they clung to each other like a lifeline, it wouldn’t change that it was his brother laid out on the metal slab in front of them in a morgue. He had dropped Patrick’s hand in favor of dashing towards the door to empty his stomach into a trashcan.

Patrick. He could only stare. He stared at Gerard’s body, pale skin, blue lips, and he did not break down, because it wasn’t, couldn’t be real. Without Gerard, he couldn’t be real.

Mikey had tried to stay with Patrick for a while. Pete joined them, tried his best to hold both of them together. Mikey reminded Patrick too much of Gerard, and Patrick reminded Mikey of the same. 

The first time Patrick really showed any emotion since the call was when he finally broke down and sobbed against Pete’s chest, begged him to just take Mikey and go home. It wasn’t that they weren’t two of the people he loved the most in the world, he just couldn’t handle being near either one of them anymore. 

xo

“I’m going where, and I’m doing what now?” Really, it wasn’t that Frank was irritated, it was just that it was too early to even try to function, and okay, yeah, he was pretty irritated. He couldn’t understand why so many people insisted on using the phrase, “Sleep like the dead,” ‘cause he was pretty well dead, and he never got any fucking sleep anymore. 

And yes, before you ask, he did need it, thank you very much.

“You’re going back to earth!” Andy exclaimed, and in Frank’s humble opinion, he was way too cheerful for the ass crack of dawn, Jesus. He turned his back on Frank long enough to pour some of the steaming hot coffee into a mug, then held it gingerly out towards him. “You’re going to be the guardian angel of a human who just lost his fiance.”

Frank wrapped his hands around the mug and brought it up to his mouth to blow on it a few times before taking a sip. He was quiet for a few moments, enjoying the bliss of fresh coffee before he sighed and looked back up at Andy. “Ah, yes. Go watch over a guy while he cries over his lost girlfriend. Sounds like a ton of fun,” He was bitter, and it was too early for this shit, so before Andy could interject, he continued. “Besides, I don’t have any experience whatsoever at being a guardian. None. Didn’t even opt for that as an option when I got here. Don’t you have to be trained for that?”

“You show up at his house, you befriend him, you protect him. This isn’t rocket science. He’s grieving, Frank, he just lost the guy he was planning to marry. Just try to be compassionate, okay? You probably won’t have to do anything like this again.”

To be honest, Frank was pretty sure it wasn’t possible for him to be any less excited about the thought of returning to earth. The word aversion came to mind briefly, but he was too tired to work that into a sentence out loud. See, going back to earth was making him tired already, and he hadn’t even actually done it yet. 

He sighed. “Well, fuck. Here I was thinking I would get to relax in the afterlife. I thought I’d get to exist in peace after getting mauled to death by a bear.”

“Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” Andy sang, upsettingly on-key, and Frank genuinely wanted to smack the smug little smile off his angelic face, even if he knew Andy would be able to kick his ass. “You know, you’re awfully bitter for someone who had arguably one of the most peaceful deaths of all of us. No one believes that you got mauled.”

He clapped Frank on the shoulder as he headed for the door. “Get packing! You’re scheduled to leave in three hours, and Ray wants to see you before you go.” He paused, taking just enough steps back that he could peek around the doorframe at Frank. “If I were you, I’d be prepared to stick around in one place for a while. I don’t think he’s gonna want to leave the house any time soon.”

xo 

A loud crash downstairs was barely, just barely enough to get Patrick to move. Even then, he didn’t actually get up, just rolled over to face his bedroom door instead of the wall. He considered calling out for Joe or Pete, but then if it wasn’t one of them, the intruder would know where he was, and he couldn’t think of anyone else that would be crashing around in his house unannounced.

“Fuck, sorry! I didn’t- Fuck, I’m new at this!”

The voice was unfamiliar, and followed by a series of small thuds, so Patrick sat up and rubbed his eyes. Maybe going to make sure he wasn’t being robbed was worth getting out of bed, but he kind of doubted it. 

Patrick shrugged into a hoodie, and immediately recognized it as Gerard’s. It was slightly too big on him, but it still smelled like Gerard, and Patrick couldn’t decide if that comforted him or made him want to cry, but he left it on and padded down the stairs.

There wasn’t enough damaged done for it to look like a tornado had ripped through his living room, but the random guy running around the living room could probably be considered a tornado all on his own. Patrick’s bookcase full of records and CDs was busted in half, its former contents scattered and sliding all over the floor.

Patrick flinched. There was no organization to that collection at all, but Gerard had put it together.

When he noticed Patrick leaning against the wall just outside the room, the intruder stopped. He set the records he had gathered down on the coffee table and approached him in a way that reminded Patrick of how one would approach a frightened animal, holding out his right hand. 

The guy was short, but still a bit taller than Patrick. He eyed him warily, decided against taking the hand being offered to him. “You know, if you’re going to rob me, protocol is generally not to introduce yourself to me before you make off with my things.” His voice was rough and cracked a few times.He cleared his throat once, when it completely gave out, but otherwise ignored it.

Short-But-Taller-Intruder-Guy tossed his head back and burst out laughing and he let his hand drop. “No! God, no, I’m not trying to rob you.”

 

Patrick, in spite of himself, smiled a little. “What else would you be breaking into my house for then?” Even if the guy was laughing it off, it still seemed like an important question. He could be dangerous, even if he was only roughly the size of a gnat. 

“I, uh, actually didn’t break in..” His laughter trailed off to a stop. He rubbed the back of his neck in an awkward gesture, only to take on what Patrick could only describe as the personality of a salesman a few seconds after. “Hi, my name is Frank, and I’m your guardian angel! I, in fact, did not break into your house, but as I shouted earlier, I’m new at this, and I kind of fell directly on top of your collection - which is excellent by the way. Sorry about that, I’ll clean it up.”

Patrick thought he was going to go into shock.

He might already be in shock.

He stared at the intruder, - who was apparently an angel named Frank? - nodded slowly, then turned towards the kitchen. “I’m calling the police.”

xo

“Okay, so I’ll humor you here. Let’s say I believe you, which for the record, I do not. Let’s say I really think you’re an angel, a real live celestial being. What do I need a guardian angel for anyway?” 

Patrick was pretty sure he never wanted to look at another officer of the law again. Frank, the helpful angel that he was, panicked and had promptly disappeared when Patrick had dialed 911. He was back soon enough to close the door behind the last officer to leave, and all Patrick was left with was a few sympathetic looks, a card for a grief counselor, and the intruder was still fucking there. 

Frank set a glass of water down on the coffee table in front of Patrick and perched himself in an armchair adjacent to the couch. He was quiet while he studied Patrick, who was curled up on one end of the couch, completely covered in a fuzzy blanket. All that was peaking out was his head. 

No guardian angel bullshit to be seen, but Frank really didn’t want this guy to hurt. “Don’t make me say it..”

Patrick opted to stay silent and stare him down. 

Frank sighed, then sank fully into the chair. Maybe if he could melt into the chair, Patrick wouldn’t make him answer all these questions. 

Long shot. 

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I’m new at this, my briefing prior to being dropped into your living room mostly consisted of, ‘This guy on earth lost his fiance recently, go be his guardian angel, good luck!’ And then I ended up laying on your living room floor with a Beatles record up my ass.”

Patrick visibly shrunk in on himself - his shoulders slumped, his head dropped, and even though it didn't look like it could be comfortable whatsoever, he brought his knees up closer to his chest. It looked like he was trying to pull what Frank had just attempted, to disappear by sheer force of will.

Frank watched him sit there like that for a few minutes, while he himself slowly slid towards the edge of his chair. Just as he was about to get up, shift his covers, sit down next to him, anything he could think of to comfort him, Patrick spoke. 

“So they sent you because of Gee? Cause they think I need someone to look after me now that he's gone?”

His voice was so soft, and come on, Frank had known the guy for all of three hours and he was already breaking his heart. He didn't sign up for this. 

He nodded slowly, shifting back into the chair before he fell out of it, eyes glued to the way Patrick kept his head dropped down and avoided looked at anything but his fingers picking at a loose string on the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Yeah, I think they did,” Frank tried to keep his response quiet, not wanting to startle him, but from the way he looked up and raised an eyebrow, he was pretty sure Patrick just hadn't heard him. He cleared his throat, nodded, and spoke again. “Yeah, I think they sent me to look after you because you lost your fiance.”

Patrick inhaled, but didn't say anything. He dropped his head back down and returned to fiddling with the thread, twirling it around his finger and unwinding it multiple times before his gaze returned to Frank. “I don't know what they, whoever they are, think you can do for me that Pete and Mikey couldn't. So you can go home.”

He shook his head. He was pretty sure he couldn't go home, actually, even if he wanted to. He had a feeling telling Patrick that was a really bad idea. Sure, he had been less than thrilled about the idea of coming to earth, but a few hours with the guy and he already didn't want to leave him alone. He was worried about him. 

He sat back a moment and replayed that thought in his head. Ray hadn't told him anything about a special bond or anything between him and the person he was guarding. Oh god, Patrick had broken him…

Frank looked up at Patrick again. “I can't go home. I don't want to. Even if I'm not someone you've got history with - I'll just assume Pete and Mikey,” He paused long enough to give Patrick a questioning look. He had a feeling he was getting one of the names wrong, but Patrick just nodded, so he continued. “I'm assuming they're your friends, and I know you don't know me, but there's a reason that I was sent to guard you and not someone else, and I don't wanna leave you alone. I wanna do what I can to help you get through grieving, and be happy again.” He stopped, and realized he was breathing slightly hard. 

He promptly regretted saying everything he'd just said. Whatever happened to playing like he wanted to go home and leave Patrick alone. 

The look Patrick gave him was what he suspected to be the closest thing to a look of shock Patrick was currently capable of pulling off, but he nodded after a moment. Seemingly hesitantly, he uncurled himself off the couch and shuffled across the living room carpet, careful to avoid the various records and CDs still scattered about. He shifted to hold his blanket with one hand and held a hand out to help Frank up out of the chair, which despite Frank’s earlier efforts, was swallowing him now. 

Once Frank was also on his feet, Patrick dropped his hand. “I'm going back to bed now. Come on, I’ll show you the guest room, so you can settle in, I guess.”

xo 

Patrick was pretty sure that 9:53am was the earliest he'd gotten out of bed in the last three or four weeks. Even when Pete and Mikey had been sharing his room with him, Mikey never wanted to get out of bed either, and Pete usually didn't want to get in it, at least not to sleep. 

In the week and a half Frank had been staying in Patrick's house, he seemed to be trying to keep out of Patrick's way for the most part. He made him meals, or at least attempted to(Frank was a horrible cook, but Patrick appreciated the effort, and it wasn't like he was eating on his own). He would bring them to him if he didn't want to leave.his room, then disappear for a while unless Patrick called him. 

He could tell Frank was doing things around the house, just because he could hear him, cleaning absently or organizing his record collection, which nine days later, they had yet to complete clean up. 

For the most part, Patrick kept out of Frank's way as much as Frank kept out of his, in that he still held onto the tendency to not leave his room unless Frank was heckling him to get up and take a shower.

Waking up before ten am was pretty good.

Patrick still took his covers with him when he rolled out of bed, tucked them up under his arms so that that blanket wouldn't drag the floor and trip.him while he passed down the stairs. 

Frank was in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, watching a movie and he nearly flipped onto the floor when Patrick appeared in the doorway. It took him a few seconds to recover and sit up, then stand while he was rushing out apologies. 

“I didn't know you were up, I haven't made you breakfast yet, but come here. Sit down, I’ll go-” Frank quieted when Patrick held up one hand to silence him. 

Patrick shook his head. “I need you to do something for me. Is that,” He stopped, giving Frank a once over, the continued. “Is that something you can do? Can people see you? Like can you go out and do things out of the house?”

The question was a bit of a shock to Frank, but he nodded hesitantly. Andy had said he'd be able to go out with Patrick, so he supposed he should be visible to people that weren't Patrick.

“What day is it?” Patrick didn't have his glasses on, Frank knew he couldn't see all the way across the room, but turned to follow his stare regardless. A calendar on the opposite wall was receiving a squinty-eyed glare like it had somehow offended Patrick. 

“March 15th,” Though his tone was pretty hesitant, Frank wasn't sure he even had the ability to sound as reluctant about this as he felt. “Why?”

Patrick nodded, then padded across the room to curl up where the couch was still warm from Frank laying there. 

“Thought so. If I give you the address to the place, can you go pick something up for me?” He didn't look at him while he spoke, but he turned to look at Frank afterwards. 

Frank, again, nodded hesitantly. He walked a circle around the couch to sit down in front of Patrick. “What do you need me to pick up?”

“Our wedding rings.”

xo

If there was some way for Frank to call back home for guidance from some other angels who possibly knew what the fuck they were doing, this would be a lovely time for it. 

He'd gone and picked up the rings at Patrick's request, but the thing was, Patrick hadn't said a word to him since he'd asked for them. For the most part, he had stayed curled up on the couch, toying with them until Frank had called him to come into the kitchen for dinner. 

Granted, he hadn't actually made Patrick's dinner yet, but Patrick was communicating entirely in short nods from where he continued to do nothing but stare at the rings in his palm, except now he was sitting in the kitchen instead of the living room.

Patrick's whisper was quiet enough that Frank almost didn't hear it over the sound of the food sizzling in the pan. He set the spoon down and turned back to look at Patrick. “What was that?”

He took a deep, shaky breath before closing his hand around the rings and looking up at Frank. “Tomorrow.”

There was no way to win this situation. Frank wanted to confirm his suspicion about what that was supposed to mean, but it was a majorly asshole-ish move to ask. 

Thankfully, before he could open his mouth, Patrick continued. “It would have been tomorrow. You know, the wedding we’re never gonna get to have now.”

Patrick wiped absently at the tears that had started spilling from the corners of his eyes. “I forgot about the rings until today, cause the jeweler called while I was still asleep.”

It may not be the right thing to do, but a sympathetic look didn't cut it. Frank cut the fire on the stove and rounded the island, moving very cautiously as he wrapped his arms around Patrick. 

The two of them were sharing a house okay, but physical contact had been kept to a minimum, so Frank was understandably surprised when he felt Patrick's arms loop back around his own waist. He was pressing his face against his stomach, and Frank could feel him trying not to all out start sobbing. Frank stayed quiet and rubbed small circles in between his shoulder blades. 

For the second time that day, Patrick's voice was almost, almost too soft for him to hear. It didn't help that his face was buried against Frank's abdomen, but the statement was enough to shock Frank into stillness. 

“He was supposed to pick them up,” Not to say that the statement wasn't already broken by Patrick's sobs, but he paused to try to catch his breath, pulling away from Frank to look up at him. 

He looked absolutely wrecked, but Frank kept silent while he waited for Patrick to finish his statement, hands resting on his shoulders. 

“The day he went missing, he promised he would pick them up on his way back home, and if I. If I hadn't asked him to pick them up, maybe he wouldn't have gone missing, and maybe I would be getting married tomorrow, and-”

Frank shushed him before he could start hyperventilating. He gently pulled Patrick back against his torso and shook his head.  
The softness of his own voice came as a shock to him. “It wasn't your fault, Patrick. You aren't capable of causing something like that.”

Patrick's grip around his waist tightened slightly as he broke down in heaving sobs again. Frank put one arm back around him to rub between his shoulders again, the other hand gently carding through his hair. He was humming softly, letting Patrick cling to and rock against him. 

Frank was so, so not qualified for this. 

Fuck. 

xo 

Around the six week mark is when Frank finally heard from ‘home’.

Tensions had lessened significantly between he and Patrick in the last month, and he would like to attribute it to earning his trust. Then again, maybe that was just cause he really wanted Patrick to trust him. 

It started with Patrick inviting Frank to sleep in his room the night after he’d gone to retrieve the rings. Frank had dragged in his pillow from the guest room and wrapped himself in a blanket on the floor. Patrick didn’t invite him to sleep in the bed with him that night, and he didn’t ask. It was enough to know that he found his presence comforting enough to want him there. 

He was getting up and doing more most days - he’d even gone out to get groceries with Frank a few times. It was a work in progress. For the most part, Patrick still wanted to stay in the house, but Frank had noticed him slowly getting more tactile. He would rest his head on his shoulder while he watched him cook him breakfast, or would lean against him while the watched movies, or idly reach for his hand when he was close enough. 

A week ago, Patrick had been nestled in Frank’s lap on the living room floor(They’d finally gotten the records cleaned up and put away). He had probably five or six years of photos spread across the floor in front of them, photos are him and Gee, vacations, art - Gerard’s, Patrick was sure to inform him - some just pictures they’d taken of each other because they were making each other happy. 

Patrick had reluctantly showed Frank some pictures of himself, with no clothes on, but paint in gorgeous designs peppering his body. 

Frank thought Patrick was walking art all on his own, but he held his tongue. 

“Neither one of us really wanted tattoos,” Patrick explained, though instead of sounding on the edge of tears as he had many times in the past when he spoke of Gerard, he seemed to be looking back on it fondly. “He was terrified of needles, but he was a terrific artist.”

Patrick had turned his head back over his shoulder to see Frank’s reaction to the picture he was holding, and Frank with his lazy smile, watched him for a moment. He tried to communicate his intent, didn’t want to do something Patrick didn’t want, but wasn’t sure how to say it. He leaned in and kissed him, quick and gentle. 

Patrick, predictably, stared back at him in shock. 

Frank was possibly the luckiest dead guy in the world though, because after a moment, Patrick leaned up to kiss him back. 

This new, easy relationship with Patrick was great, and it wasn’t that Frank wasn’t happy to hear from Andy, it was just that… He didn’t particularly want to hear what he had to say. 

Patrick was curled up against his side, and most of his half-awake focus was on the movie, so Frank was able to answer his phone with his free hand and not disturb him much. 

“So, how does interdimensional communication work? Like, is this gonna hike up my phone bill?” Frank grinned, looked down at Patrick briefly, then turned his attention back to the call. 

On the other end of the line, Andy laughed. Man, Frank really missed that perky bastard. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard calls from the afterlife are generally free of charge.”

Frank grinned and shifted a little. Patrick grunted at him, but didn’t do much other than give him a strange look. “So,” And Frank’s stomach drops at the tone of Andy’s voice. He hums, hoping Andy will get the message to hold on, then taps Patrick to sit up so he can stand. He doesn’t go far, but slips out of the room, waits in the hallway out of earshot of Patrick.

“You did it Frank,” Andy finished. “You did what you had to do as a guardian angel. You can come home now.” His voice was something between welcoming and sympathetic, like somehow he knew that Frank had taken his vacation to earth and done something stupid like fallen in love with someone who’s still alive. 

He felt like he was going to throw up. Instead, he threw a glance back into the living room to where Patrick was curled up on the couch and takes a few more steps away, out of sight. “Andy,” And yes, Frank could absolutely hear the desperation in his voice, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t go home to the afterlife, he couldn’t let Patrick get hurt like that again, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it himself, he couldn’t. “There’s got to be some way that I can stay here with him.”

Andy sighed. 

xo 

Patrick straightened up when Frank came back into the room. Frank didn’t sit back down next to him, and while that would be alarming enough on it’s own, after roughly twenty minutes of listening to Frank speak to someone in hushed, panicked whispers in the hallway, Patrick was pretty sure he might have an anxiety attack. 

Frank sat down on the opposite end of the couch, gently placed his hand on his chest to keep him away when he tried to crawl over and cuddle him. “We need to talk, Patrick.”

Patrick could actually feel his heart leap up into his throat, because he knew. He knew what this was, there couldn’t be that many outcomes of a phone call from the afterlife, where he kept forgetting Frank was from. 

“I’m dead,” Frank began, and he said it so casually, but it was still enough to make Patrick wish he could go into shock on command. “You probably knew that already, because, well. Guardian angel. The thing is, I did what I was sent here to do, and they - the board of angels who decide this stuff, I guess - they want me to come home.”

Patrick didn’t realize he was crying until Frank reached forward and thumbed the tears off his cheek. 

“Don’t start crying yet, I’m not finished,” Followed by an easy smile he’d gotten used to. Dammit, Patrick wanted to cry, he didn't want to lose someone else, not this soon, not ever. “There’s only so many times I get to die, Patrick. But I’ve got some friends who can pull some strings, and,” If Frank paused one more time or spoke any slower, Patrick was going to have a heart attack. 

“We did it. I get a second chance at life-” 

Patrick tackled Frank off the end of the couch before he could finish the statement. He clung to Frank in a way that reminded him of the first time he’d ever opened up to him, and just like that time, he was sobbing, too. “If you ever scare me like that again, I swear to god, I’ll- I don’t know what I’ll do, but don’t do that again!”

Frank was laughing his ass off and out of breath under the weight of Patrick’s body, but he was pretty sure there was absolutely no place, in this life or the next, that he would rather be. 

xo 

Andy whistled something under his breath while he stirred sugar into two mugs of coffee. He wasn’t huge on it himself, but he didn’t mind drinking it much when he had company. 

“Is he gonna be alright?” Andy threw a look over his shoulder at the source of the quiet, tentative voice. 

He gave a reassuring smile, clinked the coffee off the spoon on the side of the mug. “Are you?” He asked.

He turned around, holding one mug to his chest and holding the other out to his companion. It was cute, honestly, how shy he’d been since he’d gotten here. When he still hadn’t received an answer, except for a nervous look, he nodded. 

“Frank is a good guy. He’ll take care of your boy for you, don’t worry.”

Gerard took the coffee from him and smiled.


End file.
